No Dumb Clucks Allowed

At the end of June my mom came to visit.  Heavens praise my mom.  I say that because my chickie mama neighbor, Stayc informed me during mom's visit that the chickens might have to vacate her premises. See, Stayc and I have been sharing a flock.  It has been great; she would take care of their daily needs, and I would eat eggs.  And they stayed over at her place in a coop built in the 1800s.  These were classy digs, I tell you.

But for some reason I cannot fathom, Stayc's husband, Deek, disliked driving like a hundred miles every day to work up in Lindon and Salt Lake.  Something about never seeing his children and gas bills that exceeded his mortgage bill.

Whatever.

The point is, they bought a house up north and abandoned me and our children...I mean, chickens.

So, mom being the resourceful soul that she is and afraid of nothing says, "well, I guess we know what we are doing while I'm here!"

And like anything worth doing, it required a trip to the lumber yard. And a big red truck.

This is the first of many trips to Woodchcucks lumber yard. I don't really know if that is what it is called, but Joe the lumberjack has a picture of a big smiling woodchuck lumberjack on the side of his building and he (Joe) has a sunny disposition. 

I should have broken this up into a series of posts about building the coop.  But I didn't, so now I'm stuck with a ton of pictures and a somewhat fuzzy recollection of the last two months.  This means that you are getting a photo documentary of this project.  I will interject, but you can fill in most of the narration yourself.

These 4x4s are sunk 2 feet in the ground.  In holes.  I dug.  With a shovel.

 

We leveled the sills on concrete paving slabs.  Just little ones.

 

Mom insisted on 11 inches between rafters. Nice and sturdy.

 

I love this rough cut wood.

 

It goes perfectly with the rustic fence behind the coop.

 

I'm hoping the siding will fade to match it.

 

I hate insulation.  With passion.

 

Jon did the electricity, bless his soul.

 

Did I mention that I hate insulation? I did? I still do.

 

I understand from the farmers around me that this is a good sealant.

 

Jon and his dad helped me put up the siding.

 

We had a little bit of trouble getting the drywall ceiling up.  It came to blows.  We won.

 

And some of the boards didn't line up quite right, on the inside.

 

This might have something to do with it.

 

But I made this door on my very own and everything.  And it fit.

 

Felix seems to like the roosts.  The others aren't quite sure yet.

 

Isn't she purdy?

 

I don't know about all this, ma.

And presenting an almost all growed up Piper.  He isn't sure about his place in life.  I'm not either.  I don't think I can handle three roosters and I'm sure my neighbors can't.  I'll decide what to do with him when he starts crowing.

Maybe I'll put him with the chicks that are hatching under the broody hen that is hiding in the barn next door?

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